I am supposed to be spending this week finalising any work we want done on the house before we move in (carpets cleaned, floors finished) and getting all the move-organisation done (movers, address-changing, utility installation), but I have been so sick that everything has ground to a halt. My throat is killing me, I can’t talk, I can’t managed to stay asleep for more than 30 minutes, and my nerves are frayed. My mother, who was so bad with this herself last week that she nearly ended up admitted to hospital, came over and took care of the girls yesterday so I could finally have a much-needed day in bed. In a miserably-sick sort of way, it was heavenly.
But she’d left by the time M got home, and he walked in to find the kitchen a tip, his dinner unmade, and me struggling to get the girls fed. He stepped right in and took over, and I went and collapsed on a chair. The girls were an inexplicably boisterous mood and the cacophony rising from the kitchen when straight through me like a knife. I barged back in and barked at my children for being so unruly and then barked at my husband for letting them be so — it was sudden and uncalled-for and he, quite naturally, barked right back at me. I saw red and stormed dramatically back to my chair.
After five minutes of sulking, I began to regret my short temper and shuffled sheepishly back into the kitchen. I put my arms around M’s neck and apologised. He pulled me back and looked into my eyes for a moment, then smiled indulgently and gave me a sudden bear-hug so tight it took my breath away. “It’s alright! It happens. You know, considering that we’ve moved halfway around the world, lost a job, lost insurance, bought a house, run up medical bills, are moving again, and hardly ever get to…” — well, let’s just say that, between his crazy schedule and me being up with E2 so much, I’ve nearly forgotten what the full job-description of Wife entails… “Considering all that, I’m surprised we aren’t killing one another! So you barked — I barked too. It’s done now and it’s no big deal. We’re alright, you and me.”
He hugged me again, and my whole world was brought back into perspective. He’s right — we should be killing each other, but we aren’t — and I thank God for that.